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Updated: June 6, 2025
"Oh, Limby Lumpy naughty boy!" said his father. "Don't speak so cross to the child: he is but a child," said his mother. "I don't like to hear you speak so cross to the child." "I tell you what it is," said his father, "I think the boy does as he likes. But I don't want to interfere." Limby now sat still, resolving what to do next.
"Limby, my darling boy," said his mother, "my sweet cherub, my only dearest, do take its oily-poily, there's a ducky-deary, and it shall ride in a coachy-poachy." "Oh, the dear baby!" said the nurse; "take it for nursey. It will take it for nursey, that it will."
He had what his mother called beautiful auburn locks, but what other people said were carroty not before the mother, of course. Limby had a flattish nose and a widish mouth, and his eyes were a little out of the right line. Poor little dear, he could not help that and therefore it was not right to laugh at him.
There was nobody to be considered, nobody to be consulted, nobody to be attended to, but Limby Lumpy. Limby grew up big and strong; he had everything his own way. One day, when he was at dinner with his father and mother, perched upon a double chair, with his silver knife and fork, and silver mug to drink from, he amused himself by playing drums on his plate with the mug.
So Limby grew bigger and bigger every day, till at last he could scarcely draw his breath, and was very ill; so his mother sent for three apothecaries and two physicians, who looked at him, and told his mother there were no hopes: the poor child was dying of overfeeding. The physicians, however, prescribed for him a dose of castor-oil.
In short, he was to have the moon for a plaything, if it could be got; and, as to the stars, he would have had them, if they had not been too high to reach. Limby made a rare to-do when he was a little baby. But he never was a little baby he was always a big baby; nay, he was a big baby till the day of his death.
Limby, however, took care that no spoon should go into his mouth, and when the nurse tried the experiment for the nineteenth time, gave a plunge and a kick, and sent the spoon up to the ceiling, knocked off the nurse's spectacles, upset the table on which all the bottles and glasses were, and came down whack on the floor.
His mother picked him up, clasped him to her breast, and almost smothered him with kisses. "Oh, my dear boy!" said she; "it shan't take the nasty oil! it won't take it, the darling! Naughty nurse to hurt baby! It shall not take nasty physic!" And then she kissed him again. Poor Limby, although only two years old, knew what he was at he was trying to be the master of his mother.
His father was called the "Pavior's Assistant," for he was so large and heavy that, when he used to walk through the streets, the men who were ramming the stones down with a large wooden rammer would say, "Please to walk over these stones, sir," and then the men would get a rest. Limby was born on April 1 I do not know how long ago; but before he came into the world such preparations were made!
"Limby, dear Limby, dear, silence! silence!" The truth was, Limby made such a roaring that neither father nor mother could get their dinners, and scarcely knew whether they were eating beef or mutton. "It is impossible to let him ride on the mutton," said his father "quite impossible!" "Well, but you might just put him astride the dish, just to satisfy him.
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